


these arms are all i have.

by redhoods



Series: fictober 2019. [12]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, it's a theme with both of them, orcs purr, that's it that's the fic, they're nude okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 21:36:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21215441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: Scent clings to the fabric or maybe it’s imagination, clinging to his longing, the smell of parchment and ink, smoke and molasses. His chest is rumbling before he’s fully aware of it and he’d known, known that he’d missed this smell, missed Caleb’s smell, but it hits him here, cannonball to the chest.It only takes a little bit of shifting to get the blankets up over himself, nearly cocooning himself into the bed and the scents as he drifts off.





	these arms are all i have.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [losebetter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losebetter/gifts).

> hello darkness my old friend
> 
> have some purring, cuddly half orc. basically if you listen to that podcast of the cat purring and a track of crackling fire, you'd have the background noise of the majority of this fic.
> 
> this briefly tried to go horny but it didn't suit the feeling i wanted. maybe horny follow up later.
> 
> title is from arms by the paper kites.

They’re the first ones back to the house and Fjord swallows back an undue wave of disappointment at that fact as he trails Jester and Beau up the stairs, though far more sedately. He’s feeling every single one of his years today and his ribs still hurt, wrapped up under his armor.

There’d been no sense wasting any of Jester’s magic on it when she’d been helping dole out healing to sailors that had needed it far more than him.

Not that he’d given her a chance to voice her opinion on it.

Beau’s noticed though, had slanted him a look that said she’d be keeping an eye on him and would absolutely rat him out without warning. Now though, she’s focused on Jester, the two of them leaning against each other, fingers tangled. He’s had the displeasure of listening to the two of them talking about their bed and all the things they were going to do to it once they made it back. Two months on the ocean with nothing but hammocks and small cots have not done any of them any favors. 

The two of them immediately peel off for their room and Fjord debates the door of his own room and passes it up in favor of the hot tub.

He peels out of his armor and clothes at the edge, doesn’t care about nudity at this point.

It’s hard to care about nudity with this family, really, and time has only chipped away at his modesty.

Time and Caleb.

Swallowing, he peels the bandages wrapped around his chest carefully away, leaving them in a pile next to his clothes. His ribs are still mottled browns and purples under the green, sore to the touch, but they aren’t swollen, aren’t hot, and he’s not having trouble breathing.

He steps into the water and nearly wants to cry at how good it feels. Being away from the ocean has given him creature comforts, he’d realized early on their trip. Early morning dips in the ocean were nice when the weather held, but cold and he can’t take the cold the way Jester can. The water in the magical hot tub is almost too warm by comparison and he immediately sinks all the way to his chin.

The warm water pushes at all his sore muscles, eases the aches, loosens his limbs, and he finds himself drifting against the side of the tub, consciousness fading in and out.

Eventually though, he pulls himself out, clenches his fist and pulls at his pact, drawing all the water off his body, letting it splash back into the tub. He relaxes his fist again, rubs his thumb over the scar on his palm before he scoops up his clothes.

Fjord pads naked to his room, quietly thankful that he can’t hear anything coming from Beau and Jester’s room. They’ve gotten better about using the silencing charm that Caleb had painstakingly carved into every room. The door hardly creaks as he opens it and closes it behind him.

His own room is dark and he leaves his clothes in a pile, stark naked as he kneels in front of the hearth, breathes in then out, summons a flame to his palm and releases it to the pile of partially burned wood already there. It takes quickly, crackling and already warming the room as he straightens. There are plenty of things he could do now, shave, maybe trim his hair, put his things away. He does none of them, instead walks to the bed.

The covers probably need to be changed after sitting unused for some time now, but he turns them down all the same, slides into the bed.

Mashes his face against the pillows and inhales.

Scent clings to the fabric or maybe it’s imagination, clinging to his longing, the smell of parchment and ink, smoke and molasses. His chest is rumbling before he’s fully aware of it and he’d known, known that he’d missed this smell, missed Caleb’s smell, but it hits him here, cannonball to the chest.

It only takes a little bit of shifting to get the blankets up over himself, nearly cocooning himself into the bed and the scents as he drifts off.

\-----

He wakes warm, bleery, a little unsure of why he’s even woken, until he realizes there are fingers combing through his hair, that he’s listing a little towards weight on the bed. His sleep sluggish mind takes a minute to process before he jerks and opens his eyes, “Caleb!”

“Shh,” Caleb’s fingers card through his hair again, down his neck, and back again, a lulling pattern the sinks him back against the mattress and his eyes close again, “Hallo, schatz.”

Fjord hums, turns to press his face against Caleb, against his hip and thigh, inhales there, “You smell like dirt,” he slurs there quietly, tossing an arm across Caleb’s lap. His arm knocks against a book and on Caleb’s other sides, his fingers brush fur so he gives Frumpkin a scritch as best he can like this.

Caleb laughs above him and the sound floods his chest, “I did spend practically two whole months gardening,” he says and his nails scrape the back of Fjord’s scalp.

“You should’ve woken me,” he muffles against Caleb’s trousers.

The hand slides down across his shoulders and he realizes he must’ve kicked the covers down. Caleb sounds far too amused when he finally replies, “I was appreciating the view,” then his hand slides back up, feather light against the back of Fjord’s neck in a way that sends a shiver racing down his spine, “It also seemed like you needed the sleep, you were so out. And purring.”

He still is for that fact.

“Oh and Beauregard stuck her head out of her room long enough to tell me to keep an eye on your ribs,” Caleb adds.

Fjord groans against his hip and Caleb laughs above him again.

There’s a quiet snap, the quiet puff of magic, and there’s no longer fur tickling the end of Fjord’s fingers. Caleb’s book also snaps closed and he hears it land on the table on Caleb’s side of the bed, “Let me up for a moment, schatz,” Caleb says and touches his shoulder.

Loathe as he is to do it, Fjord withdraws his arm, turning up onto his side and pillowing his arm under his head as he finally cracks his eyes open once more to take Caleb in at last.

He looks good and that’s not just the two months of distance talking. There’s color to his face again, his hair is shiny, longer even still. And it looks like he’s been eating, properly eating, not his usual picking at his plate, no longer gaunt, as he methodically strips out of his clothes. There’s a gentle softness to his belly that makes the sound from his chest kick up in strength.

Caleb blinks over at him, head tilting as he grins, slow and sly, “Appreciating the view?” His cheeks are going ruddy.

Its been two months and the franticness he’d been expecting, the desperation he’d been waiting to feel doesn’t come. The warmth that starts in his chest spreads, just slow rolling through his belly, and he exhales, “Yeah,” he settles on, simple as that, “Missed you.”

It makes Caleb’s expression go soft, his mouth tipping up, “And I you,” he says quietly. He’s much more tidy about his clothes, hanging his coat on his desk chair, making sure his shirt and trousers end up in the basket at the end of the bed. His smallclothes too, and he comes back to his side of the bed, naked and entirely unbothered by it.

Fjord shuffles more to his own side, splaying on his back for Caleb to tuck in close. What he’s not expecting is for Caleb to slide onto the bed and immediately sling a leg over him, to settle against his lower belly, “Hello, love,” he rumbles, framing Caleb’s hips with his hands.

Caleb tips forward, curving over him, bracketing him in with his forearms. His hair spills forward as he does, curtaining around them, tickling against his cheeks, “I haven’t gotten a ‘welcome home’ kiss yet,” he says, eyes crinkled at the corners. 

And Fjord doesn’t give a chance for more, surging up to press their mouths together.

The kiss stays soft and slow, syrupy sweet, as they reorient themselves to each other. Fjord lifts his hand, slides his fingers into Caleb’s hair, finds it soft and silky between his fingers, tugs gently to feel Caleb shudder above him. Caleb is the one to break the kiss, sliding his mouth sideways along the bristle growing on Fjord’s jaw.

“How’s that for a welcome home?”

Caleb laughs against his throat, a rasp of sound, then sinks suddenly, flat down against Fjord, “Gut,” his breath is warm against Fjord’s neck, lips soft and slick as he smudges absent kisses there.

Fjord wraps his arms around Caleb’s back, squeezes tight once just to hear him ‘oof’, then settles, skating his claws up and down Caleb’s spine, “How was the grove?” He asks when they’ve done nothing but lay together for several long, comforting minutes.

After several moments of silence, he thinks Caleb’s fallen asleep, but then Caleb hums, “Jester was welcoming me home,” he murmurs, bites gently at Fjord’s neck, then adds, “She also mentioned your ribs.”

Groaning up at the ceiling, Fjord shakes his head, “Mountains out of mole hills, Cay,” he gripes, though fond.

It doesn’t stop Caleb from tipping sideways, sliding off of him to lay next to him, “They’re awfully purple,” he says, eyeing Fjord’s ribs critically, tracing his fingers around some of the discoloration, “Do I want to know how you did this?”

Fjord scrunches his nose, shakes his head, “Probably not.”

Caleb presses a gentle kiss to the area, “Something heroic, no doubt,” he starts laying a line of gentle kisses up Fjord’s chest until their lips meet again. He slips away before the kiss can become anything heated, tipping over onto his own pillow, “The grove was beautiful, but crowded.”

“Whole family finally make it back?” He asks, tipping carefully onto his side at Caleb, take in his profile, the crook of his nose, his thin lips, the clean line of his jaw, down to his slender chest, the russet hair that covers his chest. When he draws his eyes back up, Caleb’s face is turned towards him, lips pursed in amusement.

He reaches out, splays his hand on Caleb’s chest, feels the steady thrum of his heart.

One of Caleb’s hands comes up, covers his, thumb gentle on Fjord’s knuckles, “Ja, the whole lot of Clay’s,” he blows out a breath, “I think even Caduceus was ready for a breather by the second week.”

“I’m sad I missed it,” he says quietly. He’s seen the grove since Caduceus broke the curse, though he’d never seen it before, the purples and greys of corruption had still be receding. Apparently now, almost all signs of the corruption were gone.

“There’s all the time to see it,” Caleb says and squeezes his hand.

Fjord nods, “We’ll have to make the trip.”

Caleb turns onto his side, the two of them facing each other, curled in like parenthesis, their hands sliding to the bed between them fingers tangling, “You’ve yet to stop purring since I came in the room,” he points out, sounding a touched awed.

“I’m happy to be home,” he answers, tangling his legs with Caleb’s, “happy to have you home.”

It gets him a smile, bright, crinkly eyed smile, the flash of teeth as Caleb scoots closer to smush their mouths together, in a slightly off center kiss, before he tucks himself up under Fjord’s chin, “I’m happy to be home with you.”

Fjord nuzzles against his hair, breathes him in, the gentle overlay of dirt and flowers and outdoors, over Caleb’s usual parchment and ink, smoke and molasses, “I love you.”

Lips touch his collar bone and Caleb speaks there, breath warm, “I love you too.”

He presses a kiss to the top of Caleb’s head, tangles their legs together, curls his arm tight around Caleb’s back, and settles in for a well overdue cuddle and maybe another nap.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on twitter @vowofenmity


End file.
